Don't you ever get tired of this memory game?
You do it every morning. The mind is a muscle, Watson.
It needs to be exercised regularly lest it turn flabby.
Most people just read a book.
I am reading a book.
Well, do you mind turning it off for a minute?
I want to finish our conversation from last night.
Okay, I meant all of them.
Absorbing and cataloguing several pieces of information
at the same time is the whole point.
Talk away.
Okay, well, then I want us to get more serious
about finding a sponsor.
Why do I need a sponsor when I have a companion?
Because you only have me for a few more weeks.
A sponsor is permanent, someone who's...
struggled with their own addictions
and is gonna offer you lifelong support and advice,
which is what you need.
The drugs that I took seemed to light up my brain.
Suddenly I realized
the power I held, the power to rule,
to make the world grovel at my feet.
The drugs I took seemed to light up my brain.
Suddenly I realized the power I held,
the power to rule,
to make the world grovel at my feet.
Okay.
Well, I know someone who might be a good fit for you.
I've worked with him before.
Let's have coffee with him, okay?
If I needed a sponsor, that would sound delightful.
I don't. Just like I didn't need a sober companion.
And you didn't need rehab
and you didn't need drug counseling
and you didn't need any help of any kind.
I know.
It's just coffee.
Sherlock. Fine. I'll go.
Provided I can get some peace and quiet around here.
We completely understand, Mr. McKeon.
Fluid layout.
No, we-we agree, uh...
grid-based design, it's gone the way of the dinosaur.
Will do.
All right. Take care.
Our favorite client's still wringing his hands?
Guy just does not get Web design.
'Course, he's like 45 or something.
Is that you?
No.
I think it's coming from inside the vent.
Yeah, repair guy must have dropped his phone or something.
That's going to make us crazy.
I'll call maintenance.
♪ Elementary 1x08 ♪ The Long Fuse Original Air Date on November 29, 2012
== sync, corrected by elderman ==
♪
The blast detonated in the southeast corner
of the office around 9:15 this morning.
Killed two people,
Dave Preston and Royce Maltz,
and injured 11 more.
Chemical composition of the device?
The bomb squad's working on it.
All they know for sure is that
the bomb was stashed in that air vent.
Both of the victims were employees of this company?
Parabolic Web Industries.
They design and maintain corporate Web sites.
We're looking into whether anybody had beef
with the firm.
Captain?
I imagine you won't miss this when you're gone.
In a few weeks, you'll be with your new client.
No more crime scenes, no more death and destruction.
Most dangerous place you'll go is a support group meeting
where they've run out of coffee.
Firstly, I don't have a next client, and secondly,
you're right, I'm not gonna miss seeing this stuff.
You see this?
That's packing paper.
It's used to fill the gap
between the fuel and the blast cap on a pipe bomb.
When the bomb detonates,
this paper is ejected through the barrel
before it has time to fully combust.
Now, weapons-grade munitions uses pulp filler,
not newspaper.
The bomb squad said the same thing.
We're already running a check
on recent commercial burglaries
to see if anyone's missing
any flammable chemicals or gunpowder.
You got something?
Motherboard.
You know this is a computer company, right?
Well, that's just it, Detective.
This is not from a computer.
It's from a pager.
Note the presence of a receiver
but the absence of a transmitter.
What's it doing here?
Pre-explosion, this place looked like the deck of a starship.
It's unlikely any of the firm's employees
would use technology as antiquated as a pager.
You're saying it's part of the bomb?
I'm saying this may be the bomb's detonator.
The good news is, if it's not too badly damaged,
you'll be able to trace the account.
I'll get this to tech assist right away.
I'll let you know when we hear something.
If the motherboard is still functional, how long
do you think it's gonna take the police to get a number?
Two, maybe three hours. Why?
The sponsor's name is Adrian,
and he works on the floor of the stock exchange.
Good thinking, Watson.
You know how much I enjoy bankers.
Glad to see you've been paying attention
over the last few weeks.
Actually, he's an officer with the SEC.
So he spends his days keeping bankers in line.
He also spent four years at the London School of Economics,
so he knows your old stomping grounds.
You think I'd just pick any name out of a hat? Oh, there he is.
Hey, Adrian.
Hi. Adrian, Sherlock.
Pleasure.
Well, you guys talk.
I'll be over there when you're ready.
A hypothetical, Adrian.
I call you in the middle of the night,
I tell you that I'm thinking of using again,
and that if I don't, I might die.
How do you respond?
Well, Sherlock, I think I'd start
by reminding you, you got to take it one day at a time,
and that every clean day is a victory.
I call you and tell you that an enemy has poisoned me
with a powerful neuroleptic agent.
The only antidote is a healthy dose of diphenhydramine,
of which I have plenty.
Do you advise me to take it?
Diphen...
Diphenhydramine.
You find murder-by-poisoning humorous?
No, of course not. I just...
The diphenhydramine, Adrian, do I take it?
If it's gonna save your life,
then yeah, of course you do.
That's your idea of a good fit, seriously?
I told you, he's one of the best sponsors I know.
Peter Platitude? I was waiting for him to hold my hand
so we could recite the Serenity Prayer.
Okay, if you want to hear something other that platitudes,
try listening to the guy for more than two minutes.
The man encouraged me to take diphenhydramine, Watson.
A deliriant.
The Republic of Zambia recently classified that
a controlled substance.
Now, what kind of a sponsor would allow his sponsee
to risk their sobriety over a simple case
of neuroleptic poisoning?
Okay, you think I don't know
there's no right answer to that question?
You don't want Adrian?
Okay. This is a process.
We can look for other candidates at group tonight.
We are gonna find you a sponsor
before my stint is up, okay?
Ha.
Captain.
That motherboard you found--
bomb squad confirmed it was part of the device,
so touché.
The pager it was part of was prepaid,
so there was no subscriber info,
but luckily, the tech assist
was able to pull a number off it.
And the same phone called the pager
three times this morning,
and each call was within seconds of the bomb going off.
Were you able to trace the number?
Yeah, to a plumber named Rennie Jacobs from Queens.
And get this, he just did a six-year stretch
for burning down his apartment
in an insurance fraud scheme.
Any particular reason
he'd want to depredate that Web design firm?
No clue, but, uh, if you want to see him
live and in person, he just got here.
I was just trying to call in
a breakfast sandwich order, that's it.
Three times you called that pager, Mr. Jacobs.
Three times.
You said the pager number was 555-0164, right?
212 area code?
I was trying to call Miracle Deli on 113th.
Their number is off
by one digit. 0165.
I must've misdialed, 'cause when they didn't answer,
I hit redial.
Twice.
Miracle Deli. Pickup or delivery?
He's telling the truth
about the numbers being off by a single digit.
Yeah, we know.
Coincidence bugs me, but not enough to cut him loose.
I got to step out.
Bomb squad wants to brief me.
You don't look convinced.
Bomb-building is a dangerous venture.
It requires patience, precision,
attention to detail.
Mr. Jacobs' wristwatch is nine minutes slow
and his fly is three-quarters down.
That doesn't scream detail-oriented.
Ted Kaczynski looked like a hobo puked another hobo.
He managed to hurt plenty of people.
Point taken.
Yeah.
Can I help you?
This is the, uh...
the bomb's power source, I presume?
Six volt.
Very interesting company, PrimSource Battery.
Founded in 1888 by British expat
and purveyor of mechanical novelties,
Hubert Primler.
They switched to making batteries full-time in 1907,
each one stamped with the company's
now iconic rising-sun logo.
The logo remained unchanged until 2008,
when a small oak tree was added
to commemorate the company's centenary.
Yet this one has no oak tree.
That means that battery
is more than four years old.
Odd, isn't it, go to all that trouble
building an elaborate explosive device
and then power it with an old
and potentially unreliable battery?
Odd, yes, but not impossible.
Holmes, Holmes, I've only got a few minutes here
to pick Bennett's brain before I have
to stand in front of 20 cameras
to explain what happened this morning.
What about that? What about what?
It's the president.
Wrong. It's the senator. Captain...
Senator Obama, not President Obama.
You can tell from the lack of gray in his hair.
He's right. I can make out a date on this one.
October 13, 2008.
So, what are you saying?
That battery is four years old.
These shreds of newspaper are four years old.
The bomb that exploded this morning was four years old.
But why would the suspect build a bomb
and sit on it for four years?
He wouldn't have.
And in Rennie Jacobs's case, he couldn't have.
He was in prison four years ago.
I think he was telling the truth
when he said he dialed the wrong number this morning.
We have the man who set it off accidentally in 2012.
Now we just need the man who intended to set it off in 2008.
You're sure he's not the one who built the bomb?
Sure? No.
Reasonably certain? Yeah.
The NYPD can continue to poke and prod him.
In the meantime, you and I can push forward
on this, our new front.
It is a lovely front.
Hmm. Vanowen Strategic Communications.
Public relations consultancy founded in 1994
by Harrington School of Business alumna Heather Vanowen.
The firm is particularly adept at solving image crises
of the corporate variety,
making them one-stop shopping for many of the Fortune 500.
Spin doctors of the highest order, and
former tenants of the midtown offices
ravaged by a homemade bomb this morning.
They occupied the space until December 2008.
Now, if I'm right and the bomb was planted that October,
this company or one of its employees
may have been the intended target.
Mr. Holmes?
Heather Vanowen.
This is Earl Wheeler, my CFO.
We were told you work with the police.
I'm their consultant.
This is Miss Watson.
She is my consultant, slash housekeep.
So, how can we help you today?
Well, you can start by telling us
who maybe have wanted to blow you up in 2008.
I'm stunned.
I-I saw the story on the news this morning.
I knew that was our old office space, but...
I never would have guessed that that bomb
- was meant for us. - So you honestly think
it was just sitting there this whole time?
The police think it was tucked into an air vent.
If that part of the building's climate control system
had never needed repair--
and judging by this morning's events, it didn't--
it could have gone undiscovered indefinitely.
Okay, but why this morning?
Why'd it go off after all this time?
The bomb was detonated by a pager.
In 2008, the company that made that pager
had no signal towers within 42 blocks of your old offices.
In 2010,
they erected a new tower
a mere three blocks away.
So the bomb didn't detonate
in 2008 because the call couldn't go through.
The question is: Who built the device,
and what may they have had against your company?
I'm sure that we've made our fair share of enemies
along the way, but, um... someone who would build
a bomb?
The ELM.
The Earth Liberty Militia.
We got some threatening letters from them in 2008.
They're an ecoterrorist group, right?
They've bombed a few other companies over the years.
What would an ecoterrorist group have against a PR firm?
Our clients.
We work with some of the major energy conglomerates.
Occasionally we have to help them
smooth over their image after mishaps.
200 million gallons of oil
spilling into the Gulf, for example?
The ELM sent us seven letters in 2008.
I know that we kept hard copies of them in our records room.
You want to take a look?
We would.
Effluvium, fussbudget, Cairo.
Nine across, 14 down, 32 down.
I-I have a sort of thing for puzzles.
When I first tried getting clean,
I started drinking.
Before long, I realized that I had swapped
one addiction for another.
Please put those away.
"You cannot stop this. You can only submit.
Submit or be destroyed""
That's something the ELM would say.
Here...
Not the time, not the place.
I'm sorry, but from a forensic linguistics standpoint,
these threats are quite fascinating.
For example, I see clues here that would suggest
that the ELM was not an organization, per se,
but one man posing as an organization
Seriously, can you just examine those at home?
We have work to do here.
Oh, yeah. Sponsor Search 2012.
I have to say, Watson,
it's a bit of a motley crew tonight.
I don't think these are my kind of addicts.
I think this is going to be a much longer
and more involved process than we initially thought.
You have 23 days.
Then our time is up.
My name is Alfredo, and I'm an addict.
Hi, Alfredo.
Started boosting cars when I was 14.
By the time I turned 18,
I was the best there is.
Ain't a car in the city I can't steal.
Him.
Hmm? Now I'm flush with cash,
I'm bored... I turn to drugs.
I want him to be my sponsor.
Took my first hit at 19...
This phrase, "on your beam ends,"
it appears in five of the seven threats.
I'm certain I've heard it before; I just...
can't recall where.
"On your beam ends."
A nautical idiom first documented
in Captain Frederick Marryat's 1830 novel
The King's Own,
signifying a situation of great peril.
Strange for such an aberrant phrase
to appear so repeatedly.
Are you seriously going to make me ask?
Ask what? About your sponsor, Alfredo.
Delightful fellow.
He's agreed to meet us both tomorrow for coffee.
So we can get to know one another.
You don't approve?
I'm just a little confused, that's all.
I mean, you actually met Adrian.
You talked to him before you turned him down.
You heard Alfredo speak for 15 seconds.
Oh, have you not figured out by now
that I see far more than your average addict?
My observational skills are second to none.
I know. I know that. I just... I want to leave you
in the best situation possible. It's important to me.
Got it. Good. I'm glad.
No. "On your beam ends""
I've got it.
I know where I was when I heard it.
That one.
That's where I saw it, weeks ago.
But what was the context?
Yellow cartoon sponge man,
sports news, mouthwash advert,
Arctic Blue...
You want to tell me what you're doing?
Uh, method of loci, mnemonic device.
Relies on memorized spatial relationships to establish,
catalogue and recollect memorial content.
If I remember what was on these six screens,
I'll remember what was on the seventh.
Fat lady, new cookbook, insufferable.
Erectile dysfunction. Nature program, penguins.
And... talk show.
The topic was... international whaling laws.
Two guests got into an argument.
You are not seriously suggesting
that cleaning out the Pacific Ocean is a good idea.
What do you suggest we tell the Japanese worker
whose livelihood depends upon this trade?
Just... you don't get it.
One day 50 yrs from now, when you're on your beam ends,
you'll wish you'd done more when you could have.
That's the same bombast
I read in the ELM letters.
It's the same hyperbole.
Same weird phrase.
You really think it's him?
I know a way to find out.
I'm confused, Detective.
You're accusing me of being some sort of ecoterrorist?
One of our special consultants
thinks your speech pattern is a match for these letters.
For the last time,
I have never seen these letters before.
I don't know anything about the ELM,
and I certainly didn't build any bombs.
Lie, lie and lie.
Who the hell are you?
I am the man with the button.
It's from the elevator down the hall.
You pushed it to get to this floor.
As soon as you disembarked, I removed it,
and took it to the department's latent print unit.
It has your fingerprint on it, you see.
Which means it has a great deal in common
with a component from a bomb the ELM detonated
in a lumber mill in Utica in 2005.
Button... bomb.
The similarities are quite striking, wouldn't you agree?
You built the ELM bombs, Mr. Knowles.
And you wrote those letters.
It's too bad you didn't go back for the one
you left at Vanowen S.C. when you realized it was defective.
Maybe you wouldn't be facing two murder charges today.
I bombed that lumber mill.
And I wrote these letters to Vanowen S.C.
But you know what I didn't do?
Follow up on them.
By 2008, I had successfully detonated
nitrate-based bombs at five different companies.
I was established, and I was taken very seriously.
Vanowen S.C. was one of several dozen businesses
I threatened but never bombed.
Why am I not surprised you'd take credit
for every bombing except
the one that killed two people?
Was that you?
Was what me?
What did those balls ever do to you?
They're dying for a good cause, Watson.
Of course they are. Ah!
Did you know
that when a bomb explodes,
the component that houses the fuel is often atomized?
Now, this can make it difficult, if not downright impossible,
to identify the device's chemical composition.
The NYPD bomb squad is currently struggling
with this very conundrum, so I thought I would help.
With tennis balls? I'm attempting to replicate
the odor and burn pattern of the office bombing
using a few of my own concoctions, and these balls
make the perfect delivery mechanism.
When Edgar Knowles was arrested this afternoon,
he confessed to setting off
five nitrate-based bombs at various businesses.
No self-respecting eco-warrior
would use toxic, man-made chemicals in his bombs.
He would use natural ingredients.
Smells like fertilizer.
With good reason.
Beyond its horticultural employments,
fertilizer can be distilled down
and mixed into a rather potent nitrate accelerant.
This ball is filled with the stuff.
If Knowles did try to blow up Vanowen S.C.,
he would have used nitrates, and if he'd used nitrates,
the bomb would have filled the air with an odor
as pungent as it is distinctive,
the same odor that you're smelling right now.
The thing is, I didn't smell
any fertilizer when we were there.
I smelled something else.
It was foreign to me in the moment, but...
I have managed to recreate it with the help of
my little round friends here.
I am now certain that the bomb was made
using potassium chlorate.
It's an accelerant made of
gasoline, bleach and petroleum jelly.
Are you saying that Edgar Knowles was telling the truth
when he told you that he didn't build the bomb
that exploded at Vanowen S.C.?
I am.
Well, if he didn't build it, who did?
Haven't the foggiest.
Hey.
Heard you were looking for me?
Yesterday, you gave us Edgar Knowles on a silver platter.
Now you're telling me
he did every bomb except for the one
from two days ago? As I said before,
that bomb was built using potassium chlorate.
Yeah, and Knowles only used ones with cow manure.
I heard you. That's not enough.
There's more. I came in this morning
to reexamine the bomb's components, and I pieced together
some of the strips of packing paper
that were used. I managed to form
almost a third of a page of the October 13 edition
of the New York Times.
This particular clump caught my eye.
I saw small, almost imperceptible indentations
along the upper fringe.
I don't see anything.
You wouldn't.
Well, most people wouldn't, which is why
I traced over it.
The paper that was used
in the bomb was beneath another piece
of paper when someone wrote that word.
They pressed hard enough to make indentations.
Now, I already checked it
against Edgar Knowles's handwriting.
It's not a match.
All due respect, Holmes.
So what?
Maybe he had help with the bomb.
Maybe that person wrote some
weird note on top of the newspaper.
As I said previously, I believe Edgar Knowles worked alone.
And as I said previously, I still like him
for the last bomb.
The threats against Vanowen S.C. were never made public,
which means, aside from the police,
the firm's employees were the only ones
who were aware of them.
I'd like you to request a subpoena
of their personnel files
so that I can review them. For what?
Well, imagine you were a disgruntled employee, hmm?
You want to strike out at the company, but you don't want
to get caught, so why not take advantage of the ELM threats
to plant a device of your own, hmm?
You get the blast, they get the blame.
No.
No?
No subpoena.
If you really want to go poking around
at Vanowen S.C., you're gonna have
to take it up with them.
I'm sure he's gonna be here any second.
I really like those...
tattoos.
You know, I'm just gonna text him again and see where he is.
I'm really sorry, Alfredo, but it doesn't look
like Sherlock is coming and joining us today.
Be patient.
First rule of good sponsorship.
Newcomers like him don't always understand
the scope of the work involved.
They get frustrated.
We need to be patient and methodical with him.
I was under the impression
that you'd never been a sponsor before.
I haven't.
But I have a great one.
Taught me everything he knows.
Truth is, I've been wanting to be a sponsor for a while now.
People never ask.
Think it's because I'm quiet.
I can help your friend, Miss Watson.
He just needs to give me the chance.
Doing okay?
I am.
And thank you again for allowing me to peruse these files.
Oh, it was an easy decision to make.
If you think there's anyone here who has something
against this company, I would like to know.
You're a fellow addict, aren't you?
Crosswords.
You couldn't have figured out those clues
at my computer the other day if you weren't.
I dabble.
Well, I wish I could say I just dabbled.
I used to have my habit under control
back when the papers only issued one a day.
Ever since they put the last 50 years
of their archives online, I'm a lost cause.
It's a miracle I get any work done at all.
You want sex?
Excuse me?
I'm not averse, Ms. Vanowen.
I'm just busy.
Perhaps we could set an appointment.
You're flirting.
This crossword talk.
You find me attractive.
The feeling is mutual, mostly.
The musculature of your legs
and your shoulders suggests a certain elasticity I find
quite tantalizing.
I must warn you, however, a relationship between us
could never go beyond the physical.
No offense to you, of course.
It's just... not my way.
Hey.
Am I interrupting?
Nope.
Not even a little.
Sorry I missed our engagement, Watson.
As you can see, I'm investigating
the possibility that a Vanowen employee set the bomb.
It's okay-- I told Alfredo I'd be in touch, and that
we could reschedule.
Is that the whole piece? Uh...
Pradeep Singh.
Hired as a copywriter in December 2003.
He was promoted to junior associate in January 2007,
senior associate in June 2007,
and finally associate creative director in March 2008.
I see here that he was written up
by the human resources department on October 10, 2008
for engaging in a shouting match with you, Mr. Wheeler.
I see the human resources' report,
then nothing-- no more papers...
Yes, that's because his contract
with this company was terminated.
Because he fought with you?
Because he disappeared.
He came to work, left, never came back.
It was in all the papers at the time.
The police got involved, never found him.
May I ask what sparked the disagreement between
the two of you?
Uh... Pradeep wasn't happy.
He was a model employee at the beginning,
but something changed him.
He became-- I don't know-- arrogant.
He started talking about how he wanted more power
here at the company, more control,
and we gave it to him at first.
I mean, Pradeep was
a capable guy.
Then it all changed when he came in asking
for his fourth raise in 18 months.
Well... You told him enough was enough?
No, that's when he snapped.
He told me I'd be sorry.
And he worked here for about another week,
and after that, he was gone.
Never saw him again.
Pradeep is dead.
He died in 2008.
It was our understanding,
Mrs. Singh, that he was never found,
alive or dead.
My husband loved me very much, just as I loved him.
He never would run away.
I held out hope for him for quite some time,
but eventually I had to accept
that the only possible explanation
for his disappearance was death.
You think he was a victim of foul play.
If he had collapsed somewhere, had a heart attack or a stroke,
someone would have found him.
Pradeep was murdered.
Or he snapped-- planted a bomb at his workplace,
and then dropped off the grid before it detonated.
Do you have any idea who might have wanted
to hurt your husband?
No.
There was the one man at his office he argued with
a few days before he vanished,
but the police were able to clear him.
Other than that, he had no enemies.
He was a... I'm just curious, Mrs. Singh.
Have you had any work done in this room since 2008?
Work? Remodeling,
refurbishment, reconstruction.
No, I haven't touched it since Pradeep disappeared.
Not even to address the mold on the wall behind that cabinet?
How did you...
The nose knows.
Might we take a look in your backyard?
Why?
Formality.
Actually, I think I'll just use your facilities first.
I think I had a dodgy egg.
I'll join you presently.
♪
It did.
It was nice to be out in the country.
Would you excuse us a moment?
Sure. Excuse me.
Mrs. Singh was right-- her husband is dead.
He has been for quite some time.
What are you talking about? The photograph at the end
of the mantelpiece, it shows Pradeep and Mrs. Singh
sitting on the sofa. It was taken
in the same room that we were sitting in.
I noticed several discrepancies between the wall
in the photograph and the one that we were facing.
The spacing between the paintings was all wrong.
In the photograph,
they were approximately 18 centimeters apart.
In the room, 12 centimeters.
There also hang lower now by about ten centimeters.
Someone took them all down,
put them back up again,
didn't get the measurements right.
So, Himali moved them?
She says she hasn't had any work done in that room,
and when I took the frames off the wall,
I saw that she was right-- there's no old nail holes
that correspond to the frames' original arrangement.
There is, however, a slight bulge.
Bulge?
The center of the wall is almost
imperceptibly convex.
Why? Because the gasses released
from Pradeep Singh's decomposing body
expanded the plastic sheeting that he's wrapped in,
pushing outwards.
Wait a second.
Are you telling me that Pradeep is in that wall?
That would explain the mold, too.
No. His killer removed insulation
to make space for his body.
This created a temperature differential
between that section and the others, condensation formed...
Then mold. Mmm.
Four years ago, Pradeep's murderer tore down
that section of wall, stashed him inside,
and then replaced and repainted the drywall.
Are you sure?
I'm fairly sure.
Himali Singh didn't kill her husband.
ICE confirms she was in Mumbai
visiting family during most of October '08.
She didn't even come home
until she learned Pradeep was missing.
Whoever murdered Pradeep at home,
they knew that his wife was out of town.
Her trip would've provided the privacy and time
to kill him and stash him away.
Maybe Singh had a coconspirator,
someone he built the bomb with.
Things went south... Mmm.
That's a reasonable theory, Captain.
Problem is, I no longer think
that Pradeep had anything to do with it.
What's that-- company newsletter?
Now, that is Pradeep's desk.
That is the air vent in which the bomb
was concealed, right next to him.
Now, if that had gone off when it was supposed to in 2008,
it would have turned him into so much
newly promoted hamburger.
Vanowen S.C.'s personnel files showed that he did not miss
a single day's work until the moment that he left for good.
That means he spent almost a week
in the early part of October 2008
sitting within spitting distance
of a live explosive device.
You think it was meant for him.
Well, it is abundantly clear someone wanted Pradeep dead.
The question is,
who would be willing to go to such lengths and why?
M.E. confirms Pradeep Singh
was killed by a gunshot wound
to the chest.
Death was followed by, and I quote,
"pervasive mummification""
That's everything we found in his pockets.
It's kind of weird-- there's a key on the key chain
with a button to unlock a car door,
but it's definitely not a car key.
No, that is a safety-deposit box key.
You can tell by the teeth.
S.L.B.
Sequoia Liberty Bank?
Box number 699.
Huh.
Cheech and Chong's Next Movie?
Well, it's not a good movie,
but it didn't make me want to commit a homicide.
Hmm, the movie is gone.
You see this slot here?
That's there to stop you
from recording over the tape.
You put Scotch tape there, it allows you to do so.
Now all we got to do is find a VCR... in 2012.
Have you not been to my home yet, Detective Bell?
I maintain several VCRs.
I like to watch police interrogations
from the '70s and '80s.
Techniques were rawer back then, and, uh, you do,
on occasion, learn something useful.
Oh.
This is one of my CIs; I've been waiting
to hear from him on another case.
You mind if I take this in private?
My parlor is at your disposal.
What up, Carlo?
Mm-hmm.
So, listen, I texted Alfredo, and we're all set for tomorrow.
Coffee at 9:00.
Alfredo, yeah, uh, I don't think that's going to work out.
Spark's no longer there.
I think I'm going to have to seek sponsorship elsewhere.
What are you talking about? You hand-picked him.
Hmm, we can do better.
Is this about us?
Is what about us? Your reluctance to find a sponsor.
I'm starting to think you're being difficult
because you don't want me to leave.
You never told me you were funny.
You picked Alfredo because you thought
I wasn't gonna like him,
but now that I do, you're trying to push him away, too.
Okay, what you're feeling right now--
I've seen it before.
Clients start to worry about what
their lives are going to be like
after their companion leaves.
They kind of get a separation anxiety.
It's pretty standard, actually.
I guess, since you've never been anything
but opposed to me being here, it...
it never occurred to me that you might feel it, too.
I don't know what you're on,
but old me would definitely have wanted some.
Listen, I am... You're back. Excellent.
Hey, is that Pradeep?
He looks about...
25 years old there.
Hey, sweetie.
I'm so glad we finally got to have this date.
Me, too. You ready to party?
Yes. She's a prostitute.
That's interesting.
High-end, by the looks of it.
You want to help me with this? Sure.
Hello, Ms. Vanowen.
Well, we can keep watching if you'd both like,
but I'd say we've found our bomber.
All this just so you can ask me a few questions?
Just a consent form, ma'am. Standard procedure.
So, now you want to tell me what this is all about?
Hey, sweetie. I'm so glad we finally got to have this date.
Me, too. Ready to party?
Yes. Good.
I'm sorry. Was that supposed to be me?
I've learned since we spoke
that you come from modest origins.
Father a contractor, mother a homemaker.
So, when you got into business school,
you needed a source of income.
Something to pay your tuition
and provide you with seed money for your company.
You turned, in your hour of need,
to the world's oldest profession.
Took to it with some gusto, I'd say.
Okay, let's turn this off.
You built a successful new life for yourself
on the ashes of your old one, and no one was any the wiser.
Until Pradeep Singh got a job at Vanowen.
It probably took him a while to realize
that his new boss was one of the women
that he had secretly recorded years ago,
but when he did, he turned the screw.
So to speak.
Mmm. Three promotions in a year?
That smells like a payoff to me.
No. I promoted Pradeep because he deserved it.
Small confession:
I find the anti- prostitution laws
in this country rather Victorian.
Sex is a commodity.
Why shouldn't there be a market for it?
But, of course, not everyone thinks like I do.
Which is why
you had to pay Pradeep until his demands
escalated past the point that you could meet them.
Then you cast about for a way to kill him.
Now, you already had threatening letters from the ELM.
So you built a pipe bomb, planning to blame them.
But when it didn't detonate,
you simply shot Pradeep and walled him off.
I imagine it was your father
who taught you how to hang drywall.
That's very creative, I'll give you that much.
Can he just sling mud at me like this?
You can seek counsel at any time, ma'am.
Hardly surprising that you were the one
to lead the search for new offices for Vanowen S.C.
You were, after all, the only person who knew
that there was an unexploded bomb in the wall.
You know what?
I think I will actually call my lawyer.
Well, if you do, Ms. Vanowen,
you might want to tell him
you're about to be arrested.
You have an old videotape and some stupid theories.
This is not evidence.
Yes, well, I found something
on one of the scraps of paper
that was used to pack the bomb.
An imprint of the word "Novocain""
Useful handwriting sample,
but the message itself, rather opaque.
Until one considers your love of crosswords. Novocain.
The answer to 144 across
from the New York Times crossword,
October 13, 2008.
The clue was "pain's enemy"" in case you forgot.
Now, Detective Bell and the Questioned Documents Unit
have just matched it to a handwriting sample you gave us
when you signed your consent form.
Mmm. Detective Bell, the honor is all yours.
Ms. Vanowen, would you face that way, please?
You are under arrest for the bombing
that took the lives of David Preston and Roy Smalls.
This is a surprise.
I was on my way over to show you something,
then I got your message.
Yeah, well... nothing personal.
I don't take it personal. It's okay.
But since I'm here...
Ever since I got straightened out,
I've been picking up work with car companies.
I test their security systems.
I guess they figure anything that can keep me out
is good enough for their customers.
My last job just came in.
Miss Watson tells me that you're into lock-picking.
I figure maybe you want to give it a shot.
Well, the truth is, Alfredo,
I'm already quite adept at defeating security systems.
This stuff's not even on the market yet.
So, really...
how would you know if you could beat it?
You know you want to try.
Obviously your idea.
Zeroing in on common ground.
Hoping it's enough to make me reconsider him.
It won't be.
What's the harm in getting to know the guy?
One way or the other,
I'm gonna be out of your life in a few weeks.
Maybe you're dreading that day;
maybe you're counting the seconds.
Either way, I'm going to make sure
you're ready when the time comes.
I promise.
If I help him with his assignment,
it does not mean I am assenting to his sponsorship.
Of course it doesn't.
I am quite self-sufficient.
Of course you are.
Factory-installed immobilizer
or after-market tracking system?
Not telling.
That's quite all right.
I'll just figure it out for myself.
I'm entirely self-sufficient, you know.
== sync, corrected by elderman ==